


Food Wait Makes Dire Straits

by yamihere



Series: Things We Do [5]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Gen, Reader-Insert, for once Jesse isn't here - Freeform, observation, restaurant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 06:18:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16676158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamihere/pseuds/yamihere
Summary: You go to a restaurant with a group of friends. You notice one of them isn't talking and you wonder why.





	Food Wait Makes Dire Straits

**Author's Note:**

> This one doesn't have a lot of dialogue or description. It's pretty much word soup. Not sure where I was going with this but I had to write something down.

The light, suave sound of the saxophone is chased around the restaurant by the fast, chasing steps of the piano. The low chatter of fancily dressed people plays witness. Your stomach growls and you reach for the last garlic bread only to find your hand come back empty. While the others are talking, you listen but lightly tilt the bread basket to find crumbs. When you make look at the group, Sam smiles smugly while biting into the last garlic bread. The bastard. 

“Hmph,” you mumble as you glare at him and attempt to quench your hunger with a cherry drink. The food better be worth the wait.

“So, tell us about the latest exploits,” Sam inquires, running a hand through his orange hair. 

Rani rubs her gloved hands together and one eyebrow twitchs upwards. “Are you sure you’re ready to hear this, grandpa?”

Sam tilts his head and his face screams “oh no you didn’t”. 

He scoffs. “There’s nothing you could say that could shock me, child.”

Rani scowls and joking flashes him her middle finger. It is true that she is the youngest of the group. More than most things, she hates when people make her age the point of the conversation. You look on in amusement and tell her to get on with her story already. She huffs at Sam who leans on the table with one arm.  


“Anyways, like I was going to say, Julius comes to my door a drunken mess the other day…” She trails off into a story about her friendship, sex, and everything between misadventures. She had stories for days and the bursts of laughter at the table would get the occasional haughty stare. 

While everyone is laughing and talking at the table, you notice that your other friend has fallen silent. Sam and Rani don’t notice since they’re in a debate about friends with benefits involving family friends. You take another sip and chime in every once in a while so they don’t notice you’ve checked out.  


Her. She’s different. She’s not wearing the traditional dress, or a nice blouse and shirt. She’s at a renowned high-end restaurant in a forest green turtleneck and genes. Her mini afro threatens to steal the show but your eyes trail to her sad, brown ones. It's almost dismissible because of the dark lighting but you know better. She’s on a different planet. It’s either she’s a burst of conversation and constant laughter or radio silence. The glass of water hangs loosely from her hand, swirled gently to the rhythm of the music in the background.

You wonder what’s on her mind. Half the time she’s an open book, but sometimes it feels like there are chapters to her life you could not even begin to imagine. The little hints she throws your way drive you crazy. A house but not a home, that was for certain. A broken home in and out? An aversion to love? All the questions float in your head but you respect her barriers and try not to pry most of the time. 

That’s not to say you never tried to find out but asking her closest friends proved that strangers known more about her than they did, than you did. Her jaw tightens and she closes her eyes. Does she have a headache or has another painful memory resurfaced? You want to ask her but you have a feeling she’ll never answer. Not the way she would really want to.

Or maybe, just maybe, you’re projecting some of your inner turmoil on her. You shrug the thought away but its seed is already planted.  
As Rani moves onto why she’s taking her gap year before medical school at the age 20, the waitress comes out with a cart of plates and stops besides your table.  


“Hot mama,” you exclaim when your plate settles in front of you. The smell of shrimp scampi makes saliva pool at the corner of your lips. It takes all your control not to just toss the damned small fork and eat it off the plate. Everyone begins to devour their food after nearly an hour long wait except for her. She picks and prods at it and claims she’s just a picky either. Truth or a small lie? You’re doing busy stuffing your face to wonder. One day, you might just find out about the woman in the green turtleneck and genes. But for now, you just dig in.


End file.
